


Turning

by MrMundy



Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Blood, Fennorian being scared of his own vampiric power, M/M, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24617563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMundy/pseuds/MrMundy
Summary: Laurent doesn't point out that he's well aware how badly hurt he is. He knows he's bleeding onto the stone beneath him, knows that his arm feels like it's out of place and possibly broken."I don't have anything that can help," Fennorian says, voice wavering, "Gods, not like this, Laurent. You have to stay awake. Awake, love, stay awake."
Relationships: Fennorian (Elder Scrolls Online)/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	Turning

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh there's some like, injury in this and typical blood like what you'd expect in a vampire fic?
> 
> also i just like to write various stages in my ships' so this is just. somewhere way after the greymoor storyline, idk what's coming next but let me think these two just get to go on adventures together, alright????? 
> 
> also posted on tumblr, @tellydryn!

They were fighting some vampires in Blackreach - had found a Witch Pike and its surrounding ritual site on the edge of a high cliff face. Fennorian had held back, as he always did - stayed behind an outcropping of stone with his explosive potions and waited for Laurent to give him a sign that things were clear. Or at least, fine for him to help. There were a few others helping, adventurers who had heard Laurent’s plan to destroy the Pike. 

Now, usually, Laurent is able to sneak through and burn the Pikes, either through some firestarter in his pockets or one of Fennorian’s many alchemical creations. This time, however… This time, a werewolf gets the better of him before he can get to the Pike. He hears someone else get a good hit on the beast after he’s already been slammed into the ground, claws tearing through his armor like it’s nothing. He rolls off the edge of the cliff face, tries to catch himself, but his hands don’t want to grip on the stone, and then -

He’s lying on the ground, stone scraping against his back through his leather armor, struggling to keep his eyes open. His left sleeve is ripped wide open, the straps that were once on his forearms lay across the ground, his glove torn and hands filthy from where he tried to catch himself. Laurent knows he’s down, knows his bow is far across the ground and that he just needs to stay quiet and awake for the next while. He hears the sound of Fennorian using that strange disintegration power he so seldomly takes advantage of, dropping down from a stone outcropping far above him. He rematerializes and rushes forward, on his knees, staring down at Laurent.

“Hey, Fenn,” he breathes, and he watches through half-squinted eyes as Fennorian hovers over him, hands shaking.

“Laurent,” Fennorian says, choking on his words, “Oh, gods, stay still. Stay still, you're badly hurt, oh, no…"

Laurent doesn't point out that he's well aware how badly hurt he is. He knows he's bleeding onto the stone beneath him, knows that his arm feels like it's out of place and possibly broken. 

"I don't have anything that can help," Fennorian says, voice wavering, "Gods, not like this, Laurent. You have to stay awake.  _ Awake _ , love, stay awake."

He knows that the blood is what's making it hard for Fennorian to focus.

So he exhales, shutting his eyes.

"I trust you." Laurent says. 

Fennorian makes a strangled sound as he gently lifts his head, taking some rags from his satchel to clean him up. 

"I want to help you," Fennorian says, desperate. "But I don't know how."

All he has, now, are some explosive potion bottles and his flask.

He could... 

Fennorian feels his face flush with the strain of holding back sobs. He’s scared, of course, scared that once he tastes fresh blood like this he won’t be able to hold back, that Verandis’ teachings would be for naught and he’d be back at square one: a terrified, blood-hungry young vampire with nobody to support him. 

“I could turn you,” Fennorian says, voice hesitant. Laurent groans, brows furrowing. His arm throbs.

"I thought - I thought vampirism made it so - wounds don't heal?"

"I have a knack for healing," Fennorian says, holding Laurent's hand to his chest. "Myself  _ and _ others. The strain I have..."

"Too many words." Laurent says, fingers weakly gripping Fennorian's. "I  _ trust  _ you."

He's still not sure if he trusts himself. But it's his only option, right? Fennorian presses gentle kisses against his hand, his knuckle, his palm. Hurting him is the last thing he wants - though the pain he's in right now must be unbearable. 

"I'm going to be cautious." Fennorian says. "I've never … turned anyone."

Laurent makes an affirmative sound. Tilts his head slightly to offer his neck despite his delirious state. Fennorian already knows he's not going to even think of that; his hand is safer, he thinks. It takes two attempts for him to bare his fangs, his lips feeling like they'd rather stay glued shut despite the sweet smell of Laurent's blood.

No other option, he tells himself, and sinks his fangs into the heel of his thumb, the lowest part of his hand. Blood immediately fills his senses, and the taste is much sweeter than what he holds in his flask. For a moment, he simply wants to drink, wants to have that for himself but he stops, refocuses, and channels what Verandis taught him.

Turning someone is a process; he can accelerate it by giving back. It's a strange exchange, and an odd thing to feel, taking blood and then biting down on his own tongue, forcing a strange mix of both their blood against where he'd bitten Laurent. He stays there for what feels like forever, but likely is only a few moments. Laurent makes a sound and Fennorian notices that the taste of the blood flowing from his wound begins to taste less sweet, more like nothing at all. 

Hadn't Verandis said the blood of other vampires always tasted off?

Fennorian pulls back, watches as the bleeding stops. Laurent opens his eyes and groans, and Fennorian quickly snatches his flask from his side and unscrews it, putting the lip of it against Laurent's mouth. He watches as Laurent takes the first, hesitant gulp, and then drinks as though it's a sweet wine and he's desperate to be drunk. The shift in taste is, of course, shocking; Laurent had expected metallic, coppery blood, but was rewarded with something that tasted like honey.

Laurent pulls the drink from his lips and sits up, slowly. His arm still doesn't want to work, but the open wounds have gone away, and the dizziness from being thrown onto the hard stone is gone. 

"Are you - are you okay?" Fennorian says, meek.

"I… I think so. I think it worked." Laurent says, looking at his bare arm. Fennorian inches toward him, leaning down to lick the remaining drippings of blood from his forearm, cleaning his skin. Usually, he's cooler than Laurent, but now -

His mouth is warm, his tongue is warm. Likely from feeding, Laurent thinks, and once he seems content with his job at cleaning Laurent's skin, he pulls him up by one arm into a kiss. 

Laurent is happy to have Fennorian's tongue in his mouth, sharing the taste of his own blood and the blood in the flask. They pull apart, and Fennorian struggles to help him up and onto his feet without jostling his arm. 

“Let’s get out of here before they come back for…” He starts, and then smiles, “Your body.”

“They’re getting a fun surprise.” Laurent says, holding his hurt arm while Fennorian turns to grab his bow. Above, the telltale sound of burning sticks lets them know that even if they hadn’t accomplished their goal, someone else had been kind enough to help them out.


End file.
